


Masquerade

by MarshmallowMcGonagall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Death Eaters, F/M, Inspired by Cinderella, Inspired by Into the Woods, Kidnapping, Malfoy Manor, Masquerade Ball, Midnight, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Pensieve, Spinner's End, Stabbing, Summer of 1995, Thestrals, Waltzing, dramatic running through woods, glass slippers, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowMcGonagall/pseuds/MarshmallowMcGonagall
Summary: A masquerade ball is to be held at Malfoy Manor to celebrate Voldemort’s return, and when Snape arrives, he learns Tonks is the guest of honour. She is to be freed at midnight, and he has to convince her not to tell the world he has returned to his old master. Not yet a member of the Order, all she can see is a Death Eater behind a different mask, and the truth of rumours about Voldemort’s return. The clock strikes midnight and Tonks flees the Manor, leaving a glass slipper and her wand behind. Snape follows her into the woods to try and convince her to keep his secrets while he battles a sharp reminder from his master that betrayal will not be tolerated.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about because I was looking at the [snapeloveposts prompts for Snape Appreciation Month](https://snapeloveposts.tumblr.com/post/616024472658591744/snape-appreciation-month-2020) and saw Day 24 with the prompt “Disney AU”. I started thinking about the films and kept coming back to Cinderella, not least because I’d been listening to the Into the Woods soundtrack. After spending some time reading [Wikipedia’s page on Cinderella](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinderella), one thing led to another, and a fic was written. This fic is not an attempt at a faithful retelling of the traditional Cinderella tales nor Cinderella’s story from Into the Woods, but there’s no doubt they both have had a huge influence on this fic.
> 
> For those who are curious, this is the timeline of canon events:
> 
> June 24th: Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament  
> July 1st: Hogwarts end of term  
> August 6th: Harry is taken from Privet Drive by the Order of the Phoenix
> 
> The original members of the Order of the Phoenix are contacted the night of the Third Task. Snape is a member of the First Order of the Phoenix. He returns to Voldemort that night at Dumbledore’s request.
> 
> Tonks was only a member of the Second Order of the Phoenix, so she joined sometime between the Order being re-formed, and the 6th of August when - as a member of the Second Order - she is part of the guard which escorts Harry from Privet Drive.
> 
> This fic is therefore squished in the small time frame between Voldemort returning and Tonks joining the Order of the Phoenix, and begins on the 12th July because there really was a full moon that night.

The Stupefy to her back shouldn’t have been possible but Diagon Alley was busy, and after a long day at the Ministry Tonks was trying to navigate the crowds without thinking to look for Death Eaters. There had been rumours of what happened at the Triwizard Tournament two weeks earlier: Harry Potter had claimed Voldemort was back. There were whispers, already fading, about Dumbledore’s speech at the Leaving Feast. Azkaban was no longer the secure fortress they once thought, and there were too many people in there who wanted Tonks dead. Her parents urged her to be on her guard, while Kingsley would look at her with concern. Moody was only just back at work, unwilling to say anything about his experience with Barty Crouch Jr. beyond expressing a renewed hatred for those who used Dark Magic, and barking, “Constant vigilance!”. There had been a debrief for the Auror Department about the student death—a tragic accident, Fudge kept calling it—but no matter what was said, no one was quite comfortable with any of the explanations given. The “accident” reeked of Dark Magic, but they were under orders to continue as if everything was normal because officially it was.

Aurors spent years training to take on Dark witches and wizards, which made the moment Tonks returned to consciousness all the worse. As she raised her head, her stomach dropped. She could remember the first syllables of the Stupefy being uttered. She spent her days fighting Dark Magic and she had been felled by a spell children knew. 

“Why, Nymphadora,” said a cold high voice, “how kind of you to join us for the festivities.”

Tonks scrambled to turn around, struggling to find purchase on the expanse of marble. She saw the walking nightmare and screamed. 

“Crucio,” said Voldemort. 

Tonks kept screaming. Her body burned. Fire licking her veins while her muscles were aflame.

“This kind of behaviour is unbecoming in a witch of your pedigree,” said Voldemort, as Tonks lay panting and crying on the ground. “I invite you to a party and you scream. No, no, it won’t do.”

Tonks’s gaze darted around, the violent haze giving way to shapes which coalesced into people. Her family. Lucius and Narcissa stood with Draco beside them. For a brief moment, she locked eyes with her cousin, but he looked away.

“If you want this back,” Voldemort held up Tonks’s beloved rowan wand, “then you will behave.”

She swallowed and shuddered as she forced herself to meet the red gaze. Voldemort didn’t bargain. So what did he want? She felt herself nod which was when she felt the tears drop from her cheeks to her hands.

“Excellent,” said Voldemort. “Our guests will be arriving soon, and I won't have Narcissa embarrassed by having you look like this in her home.”

He gestured for Tonks to stand. Squeezing her eyes shut, she brought her hand to her mouth as a sob threatened to overwhelm her, then she got to her knees. She stood, her body shaking, an agonising numbness competing with violent shudders.

“Narcissa will see that you are properly attired,” said Voldemort.

“Of course, my Lord,” said Narcissa. “She will be beautiful for you tonight.”

Voldemort made a sound which Tonks suspected might once have been a laugh but in the empty ballroom was a quiet terror which slipped through her veins like poison. She wanted to run and knew she would get no further than where she stood. There was a flicker near a doorway of black robes, and she looked around the ballroom to find men at every exit.

“You've always liked to tease me, Narcissa,” said Voldemort. He stepped closer and raised his hand as if to stroke Tonks's cheek but his fingers wrapped around her neck one at a time. He searched her face then let go. “No, I have someone else in mind who may appreciate such a gift.”

Tonks managed to stop herself speaking but she couldn’t stop the whimper which slipped from her lips as he held her chin in his hand.

“If only Bellatrix were here,” said Voldemort. “She would have delighted in being your fairy godmother for the night.” He yanked Tonks’s chin up. “But I have faith in Narcissa’s talents, and then there are your talents.” With his other hand, he slid his wand through her hair, lifting the pink strands until they slipped from the length of wood. “And I do so miss Bellatrix.” His fingers dug into her jaw. “Metamorphose.” 

She could barely feel her body, let alone concentrate to metamorphose. The red eyes narrowed and her chin was released. She heard Lucius chastise Draco before she heard the cold high voice.

“Crucio.”

She dropped to the floor and screamed.

Snape stared at the formal robes hanging up on the wardrobe door. The parchment invitation in his hands, he knew he couldn’t decline. This would be more than a gathering of old friends now Voldemort was back. Snape had returned to one master at the urging of the other, and while the wounds from his welcome had healed, stepping into Malfoy Manor meant risking more. Not going meant death. A masquerade ball meant Voldemort wanted something, and Snape knew it was more than a desire to indulge Narcissa’s love of parties.

A house-elf was greeting guests at the entrance to Malfoy Manor and handed Snape a black mask. The mask was lighter than the metal one he wore as a Death Eater, but as he tied the ribbons of the intricate Colombina around his head, he felt as though a curse was settling upon him. Walking into the foyer, he saw Draco by his mother’s side and went over to them. Narcissa wore the Colombina, too, only half her face covered like everyone else. Everyone except Draco who wore a Volto which covered his face completely, along with a scarf and tricorn hat. Draco managed a stiff nod when he caught sight of his godfather. Draco was fifteen and ought to be enjoying the freedom of holidays. Instead, the only protection his mother could give him was a mask. 

Narcissa offered her hand as Snape reached out to her. He pressed his lips to her fingers then leant closer and kissed her cheek. 

“Draco?” he murmured by her ear. “Really?”

“Lucius felt we ought to show willing with the Dark Lord,” she said, quietly.

Snape swore under his breath and straightened up, glancing around to see Lucius talking with Dolohov on the other side of the foyer, before looking back at Draco.

“Draco,” said Snape, “stay with your mother all night, do you understand me?”

Draco managed to nod. 

“If you must leave because of the entertainment, you will sneak off to the kitchens looking for sweets,” said Snape. “And you will sulk like a petulant child if caught.”

Narcissa let slip a breathy laugh. “I’ve already warned the house-elves.” She gently adjusted her heavy emerald necklace which complemented her green gown. “Severus, the Dark Lord has brought in entertainment just for you.”

“What?” he asked, sharply.

“A gift,” she said. “I don’t know what he has planned for her, but Severus, please be careful.”

Before Snape could ask more, the doors to the ballroom were opened, and music filtered through to the foyer.

That Narcissa was the only witch waiting to enter the ballroom was all Snape needed to see to know this was a night for entertainment of a specific kind.

Inside the ballroom, there were more than a dozen women in gowns standing by the walls. Their faces were covered by extravagant Harlequin masks with smiling bright red lips, and their hands were held neatly in front of them. Snape looked around. They all stood too still. They were Imperiused. Except for one woman who stood near the throne-like chair where Voldemort sat. She held her hands in front of her and gently fidgeted with her fingers. Her arms were covered in fresh bruises and recently healed cuts, and unlike the Imperiused women who wore red gowns, she wore a grander ball gown of gold. Her face was covered by a simple Volto mask which was pure white but for the gold lips. A swathe of gold which looked more like Felix Felicis than silk was wrapped loosely around her head and neck, and she wore a headdress which ought to have been ridiculous but instead made her look as though she had stepped from the pages of a fairytale. 

Tonks tried to keep her focus on the back of the ballroom, and sniffed as more men came in and eyed her up. Their masks didn’t disguise the leering grins but they never came close to her, instead going to the other women around the room. This wasn’t new to them, she realised. There had been whispers of the revels Voldemort used to hold but no word of what actually happened. No evidence of the extravagance. No proof beyond the bodies left behind. Death Eaters already lived behind masks, what was one more?

Her chest heaved against the bodice. Narcissa had handed over potions and Tonks drank them with only the briefest wondering of regret. She quickly realised they were little more than potions to keep her on her feet. There had been few words between them. She looked at her aunt, wondering what it would be like to have the relationship they ought to have, as clothes were laid out and a mask set beside them. All this finery yet her wounds were given the briefest glance of magic. She didn’t know how long the repeated Crucios lasted, except that Voldemort stopped, and when he did, it was with a sigh. The Unforgivable had forced her to return to herself and wrought nothing else from her. Narcissa worked silently to sort Tonks’s hair while she sat as instructed at the dressing table. Then Tonks was getting into the ball gown which was heavier than seemed possible. When it came time to put the mask on, Tonks stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath as if about to dive underwater. She had tried begging Narcissa for information and received only a shake of the head. The mask was like a curse, and as the ribbon was pulled taut behind her head, Tonks stared at her reflection in the mirror before meeting Narcissa’s gaze. The gold lips didn’t smile or scream. There was no hint of being coy in the fine craftsmanship. Instead a frightening blankness as if no life lay behind. She was a ghost in white and gold, but for her terrified eyes.

Narcissa took the length of gold silk which slipped through her fingers like water, and draped it over Tonks’s head and around her neck. She couldn’t save the girl, and found herself gazing at the soft brown eyes in the mirror. Narcissa knew she would die by Andromeda’s wand if Tonks were to survive and tell her mother the truth of what was to happen in the hours to come. Narcissa placed the headdress with all the delicacy she could manage, and for a moment, she could remember Andromeda helping her prepare for her first masquerade ball. Now she was preparing her niece to go before Voldemort.

“Severus,” said Voldemort, inclining his head in greeting.

Tonks’s head whipped around. She saw Snape standing at Narcissa’s side, and her blood ran cold. This wasn’t meant to happen. None of this was meant to be happening, but he was definitely meant to be on their side. She had seen the Wizengamot papers—Dumbledore had vouched for him—he had turned spy and walked free. But with the Ministry denying Voldemort’s return, who could he be spying for now? No one, she realised, with quiet horror. And still he stood before his old master. 

Snape gave a small bow. Draco, who stood close to his mother, followed suit as Narcissa curtsied. 

Voldemort chuckled. “I think our guest is surprised to find you here.”

Snape looked at the woman whose head was turned towards him.

“Nymphadora is our guest of honour tonight,” said Voldemort, “and she is your gift until midnight.”

Snape met the soft brown gaze, the shining eyes all that were visible. 

“You have served me well, Severus,” said Voldemort. “I find I am grateful for everything I have been able to learn from you these past two weeks, and it seemed only right that I reward you.” 

Snape knew there was a catch. There was always a catch.

“As she is our guest, however, Nymphadora will need to leave eventually,” said Voldemort. “And I suspect you may not want her telling others of how you’ve returned to me, no matter what that old fool Dumbledore believes about your loyalty to him.”

“No, my Lord,” said Snape, turning back to Voldemort. “It would affect my ability to serve you.”

Snape thought of the Order of the Phoenix: newly re-formed, and with Moody still the only Auror. Snape knew that if Voldemort truly did let Tonks go free, she would tell Moody about the revel at the first chance she got, and he didn’t need any encouragement to think Snape’s motives had faltered, no matter what Dumbledore said.

“Which is why,” said Voldemort, “when Nymphadora leaves the Manor at midnight, I will allow you to leave also, so that you might try to prevent her telling your secrets by whichever means you deem necessary. But do know that if you killed her, I would be disappointed. Narcissa has done so much to make tonight one to remember.” 

Draco gave a choked huff of surprise. Snape knew his godson was racing through the possibilities of what Voldemort was giving permission for. What Voldemort had to ask not be done. There were more Unforgivables than the Killing Curse. And more curses beyond those which could be used against a person. And it would come down to his own choice. A choice which would come down to a single moment in the end. The boundaries of what he could Obliviate were already being pushed. Tonks was powerful. This wasn’t a scene she had glanced upon. This was hours of people she was trained to fight and kill. But the truth seemed even more precarious. What would it take for her to believe him? Could he even trust her?

“Come now, Draco,” said Voldemort, “do you have so little faith in your godfather’s powers of persuasion?”

Draco shook his head furiously. “No—no my Lord,” he mumbled.

“Good,” said Voldemort. “Severus, keep faith, you have a night of dancing and then Nymphadora is going to be without her wand. Really, I'm making this too easy for you, I know.”

A whimper slipped from behind Tonks’s mask. How was Snape intending to persuade her not to tell the world he was working for Voldemort again? Was it the same way Death Eaters used to persuade people with the Cruciatus? How long would she be able to endure before she surrendered to keeping his secrets? Would he force an Unbreakable Vow? The other women in the room were under the Imperius and she forced herself not to think of their fate. She was without a wand. Without a means to run, to communicate, to save herself let alone them. Would he Obliviate her? If he Obliviated her then she might still live but she wouldn’t be able to report back the night which had happened. And there had been too much time to erase. Too much time to replace with nothingness. Not impossible but it would leave its own scars. And if she did make it out alive, she would have to try and convince people that Voldemort was really back. Harry had brought back a body and still no one believed him.

“I confess, I may have lied, Nymphadora,” said Voldemort. “When I suggested you would get your wand back if you behaved, I meant if Severus deems you to have behaved, he will return your wand to you.”

“If that is your will, my Lord,” said Snape.

“I only hope you will forgive me, Severus, that I haven’t presented her to you in the best condition,” said Voldemort, “but Nymphadora was resistant to the idea of attending at first and I asked Narcissa not to cover up the consequences, because after all, I know you appreciate what it means to deal with the consequences of your actions and if I am to give you a gift, it ought to be one which complements you.”

Complements him? Tonks stared at Snape, the black mask and fine robes leaving the barest touches of him uncovered. 

“You are too gracious, my Lord,” said Snape.

“Then you will indulge me and start the dancing,” said Voldemort. He gestured to the centre of the ballroom where men and the Imperiused women were gathered. The men talked while the women hung on their arms.

Snape bowed his head briefly and held out his hand to Tonks.

“Curtsy, Nymphadora,” said Voldemort. “Don’t be rude and make me Crucio you in front of Narcissa’s guests.”

Tonks lowered herself into a curtsy then wobbled as she made to stand again. Snape stepped closer and grabbed her arm.

“My Lord,” said Snape, and Voldemort gave a wave of dismissal.

Snape tried to ignore the look of revulsion in Draco’s eyes as he led Tonks onto the dance floor. With each step Tonks took, there was a strange sound, and Snape glanced down to see she wore slippers made of glass. Glass slippers were made to be left behind. Voldemort intended there to be a chase.

In the centre of the dance floor, Snape put his hand on Tonks’s waist and adjusted his hold on her hand. She placed her other hand on his shoulder. The other men followed suit, the women of their choosing complying with unnatural ease. Tonks didn't know where to look, and so found herself looking at Snape. The music swelled, and he led her across the dance floor with a grace which surprised her. 

“Is it really you?” he asked after a time.

Her eyes bled from brown to black. She hadn’t thought of a colour, simply of change, and found herself following more than simply his steps around the ballroom. He inhaled sharply and she closed her eyes. She returned to herself before looking back at him.

“Are they witches?” she asked.

“Muggles in all likelihood,” he said. “Easier to Imperius.”

She nodded. She had tried to watch them and couldn’t. They moved unnaturally, in a way which suggested puppet strings.

Under the candlelight from the chandeliers, her gown glowed as if gold had been woven into the very fabric. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know the steps. He continued to lead her, and the other Death Eaters gave them space. She wondered if it was because of the breadth of her gown or because she was a prize for one only.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, her voice softened by the mask. Her fear and despair muffled.

“I have no intention of harming you,” he said.

“How nice.”

“Nymphadora—“

Her grip on him tightened and he met her gaze. 

“You,” she hissed. “You do not get to call me Nymphadora.” She sniffed but couldn’t stop the sob escaping her and she ducked her head. “I don’t want to be tortured.”

“You aren’t going to be,” he said, “but I need you to believe me.”

“You’re a Death Eater,” she said, with an empty laugh.

Then she heard a different voice and lurched towards Snape. His hand slipped further around her waist and he slowed until they were doing little more than moving in a small circle as her head darted around.

“Pettigrew was your kidnapper,” he said. She looked up at him. “The man to your left.”

“I never saw him,” she said. “I just remember hearing someone cast a Stupefy.”

“Don’t crowd my gift, Wormtail,” said Snape, raising his voice. “I don’t know why they allowed vermin here in the first place.”

Pettigrew let out a string of expletives, then moved away. At hearing his voice, Tonks leant as close to Snape as her gown would allow.

“It was him. I’m an Auror and I was taken down by him.” She drew in a deep breath. “And I’m dancing with a Death Eater who is going to try and persuade me not to tell the truth.” Her fingers dug into Snape. “How will you do it, Sir?” she spat.

“Severus,” he said. “I mean it, I have no intention of harming you, but Merlin, you will have to listen.”

“Then talk.”

He looked away, then moved back into the proper position to waltz. “I can’t.”

Her bitter laugh cut through the music. “Why the charade?” She looked up at the ceiling where gilted coving swept around the edges of the room. “Why bother with all this?”

“Magic isn’t a necessity to cause distress,” he said. “And the Dark Lord has always enjoyed humiliating those who have wronged him. Plus, he intends to exhaust you.”

“Narcissa gave me potions.” 

“And at the Dark Lord’s command likely timed the dosage and amount so they would wear off by midnight.”

She met his gaze. “Why?” she implored.

“Undermine the Auror Department and make sure I know to behave myself better in future,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a small smile. “He always did dislike when we didn’t obey.”

“What did you do?” Her soft words were almost lost behind the mask. “You were meant to be on our side.”

“Severus,” said Narcissa, startling Tonks and causing Snape to bring them to a halt. Draco had escorted her across the dance floor. “I can’t believe you’ve dared to neglect an old friend all night.”

Snape glanced at Tonks and took her hands from him. “Draco, do not let anyone else cut in.”

Draco nodded and held out his hand to Tonks. He was well practiced in dancing, and had grown enough since the previous summer that he could just manage to navigate Tonks’s huge gown even though she was taller than him. Tonks placed her hand on his shoulder and Draco began to lead her across the floor. She glanced back at Snape and Narcissa. Draco wasn’t as graceful as Snape. The steps were correct, the rhythm was in time with the music, but there wasn’t the confidence nor the ease Snape had. Tonks didn’t like that in being handed over, she felt suddenly less safe. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

Draco didn’t say anything but his gaze flitted to meet hers, and his grip on her faltered for a moment. 

“You need to tell people about this.”

“I can’t,” he said, stiffly.

Snape and Narcissa danced together with an ease which allowed their minds to wander. Both made to speak only to cut each other off, while they followed the steps they had so many times before. 

“Draco should be in bed,” said Snape.

The old friends waltzed near Tonks and Draco, not needing to say much for all the glances and gentle nudges they gave instead. Every effort to be careful under threat of one thread being pulled and unravelling everything. No matter that there had been a year of darkening brands. There had always been the chance that Voldemort’s return might fail. Returned from his exile however, Voldemort wanted to be entertained. To flex his power over his Death Eaters. To show who was disposable, and who still held control, all under the veil of indulgence.

Lucius sidled up beside Snape and Narcissa, still with the sense of being dazed about him. In the two weeks since Voldemort had returned, the Manor had gone from family home to Voldemort’s domain, all while Lucius recovered from his own greeting.

Lucius managed a brief smile at Snape and took Narcissa from him. 

“I’ll see that Draco leaves,” said Snape, and both Narcissa and Lucius nodded.

Snape made his way across the short distance to where Draco had inadvertently led Tonks closer to where Voldemort was holding council with a group of older Death Eaters. Tonks looked at Snape when he put his hand on Draco’s shoulder bringing them to a halt.

“Bed, young man,” said Snape. Draco and Tonks broke apart, and Snape moved so that he could put his arm around Tonks and look at Draco. “No dallying with the house-elves either, your mother told me you’ve been trying to wheedle midnight snacks from them of late.”

Draco nodded and Snape was only glad the boy didn’t turn around at the low laughter of Voldemort and his council. The young Malfoy being admonished was the opportunity to banish him for the night.

“Thank the lady for the dance,” said Snape, with a weary sigh.

“Thank you,” said Draco, giving a small bow. 

Snape loosened his hold on Tonks and she gave a small curtsy. She could see the care with which Snape was trying to get Draco away from whatever was to follow. It wouldn’t save her but she was glad that Draco wouldn’t have to bear witness to whatever festivities were to follow once the clock struck midnight. Draco all but ran from the room.

Tonks ached to rub her face, to wipe her eyes, to breathe freely. The ballroom was lit by fires and chandeliers, and still it felt too bright and hot. For all Snape did to lead her, she ached from all she still had to do, each step, each breath, each turn of her head when another Death Eater looked at her. In the end she focused on the edge of his Colombina. She couldn’t remember when she stopped having to think about the steps, only that each time the music flowed from one dance into another, he kept her from faltering. She had baulked at the glass slippers when Narcissa brought them to her, but she had been able to dance without difficulty and soon tuned out the strange sound they made against the marble. 

Even with the distance the other Death Eaters afforded them, they managed to find themselves in a quieter corner of the ballroom near a large fireplace which was surrounded by an intricate mantelpiece. When Snape brought them to a halt, it was easy to ignore how Tonks’s gown glowed in the firelight and how the light glanced off the golden lips of the Volto when he met her gaze. The tired red rimmed eyes looked back at him. He let her hand go. Both his hands on her waist, both her hands on his shoulders. Fire in her shining eyes and still her hands were steady.

“It’s almost midnight,” she whispered.

“It is of the utmost importance that my return to the Dark Lord and what you’ve witnessed tonight not be revealed to those few who might be inclined to listen.” 

“I bet that’s what all the Death Eaters say,” she said, softly. “How are you planning to persuade me?”

“I realise these are not ideal circumstances in which to convince you I have no intention of causing harm,” he said, his low words an urgent whisper. “But I am sincere when I say I will need you to listen to me once we are alone.”

Tonks gave a sputtering laugh and sniffed as she tried to stop herself from crying. “Hiding things from Voldemort, are you?”

His grasp on her tightened and as she searched his face, her body ran with goosebumps as if winter was trying to take her for its own.

She shook her head and gazed at the fire. He was meant to have been on their side. Dumbledore had vouched for him. And here they were, a room of Death Eaters between them and Voldemort. As if he wasn’t a Death Eater, too. She looked back at him and the clock above them began to chime.

“The Muggles?”

“You already know.”

She closed her eyes and he watched tears escape from beneath her long lashes. There was a movement in the crowd and he saw Voldemort dismissing his council. Snape took one of his hands from Tonks, and with the other on the small of her back, guided her towards Voldemort. When they came to a halt, Tonks made herself look at the wizard in front of her, trying to commit to memory as much detail as she could. But when she met Voldemort’s gaze, she immediately looked down at the floor. 

Voldemort rose, and with no command given, Tonks felt Snape’s hand gently nudging the small of her back again. She fell into step with him and saw Narcissa on her other side looking straight ahead. Voldemort’s robes seemed to change with each step. It was as though the fabric itself was alive, moving like a river at night.

The doors which the Death Eaters had entered through were opened again, and Tonks saw they led out into a foyer. She didn’t want to think of the eyes that were on her. Her skin was crawling and she wanted to run. She wanted her wand and wanted to fight. Except she knew she was no match for these numbers and wasn’t so foolish as to think she could take on Voldemort. The doors closed behind them as they stepped further into the foyer edged with marble pillars. She swallowed when she saw the doors which were different to the others around them. 

Voldemort stopped in the middle of the foyer and turned to Tonks, Snape, and Narcissa. He withdrew Tonks's wand from his robes and handed it to Snape, who put the wand away inside his own robes. Voldemort gestured to the grand doors, and they swung open.

“You really ought to say thank you,” said Voldemort.

Tonks turned to him and said, “Thank you.” 

“Narcissa is the one who organised this little soiree,” said Voldemort, tilting his head. “Perhaps I overestimated you.”

Narcissa walked behind Snape and around to Tonks. Narcissa took Tonks’s hands in her own, and led Tonks a couple of steps away from the two men so that she had her back to them.

“It’s been a delight to have you with us,” said Narcissa, with what seemed to be genuine sincerity.

Tonks nodded, looked at the floor, and fumbled a curtsy as she said, “Thank you.” 

Narcissa squeezed Tonks’s hands. “You did beautifully for a witch not used to a ball gown.” She shot a cheeky smile at Voldemort and Snape. “These wizards don’t know what it means to manage all these petticoats, and it can feel like they’re dragging you around that dance floor.”

“All this time, you’ve been lying when you complimented my dancing?” drawled Snape.

Narcissa chuckled, then her grip on Tonks’s hands tightened. “Severus is perhaps the only one I trust to know what he’s doing.” She added in a stage whisper, “Don’t tell Lucius.”

Tonks nodded. “Of course not.”

“This is why I prefer to watch,” said Voldemort to Snape. “These witches are creatures of such fickle desires.”

“Not least when they come from the House of Black,” said Snape.

“I heard that,” said Narcissa.

Snape and Narcissa exchanged a glance and smiled at each other.

“Severus, I confess I wonder what spell you’ve cast on her,” said Voldemort. “The doors are open and still Nymphadora is here.”

Tonks turned to look at Voldemort. He gestured towards the doors and Narcissa let Tonks’s hands slip from hers. Tonks took a step back, then another. The sound of the glass slippers echoed around them and she shot a glance at the doors.

“Am I not considered a wizard of my word anymore?” mused Voldemort.

Tonks only managed to run a few steps before having to grab fistfuls of her gown. Away from the heat of the ballroom she could feel the sweat prickling on her skin and trailing down her body. The doors. She kept waiting for them to be slammed shut and didn't dare look back. She could buy another wand. All she needed was to escape. And still her mind swirled. Narcissa's words were nothing more than sugarcoating the threat standing nearby. Tonks knew she had nothing to lose by running and her steps came with unnatural ease across the expanse of marble.

Narcissa watched Tonks run for only a moment before turning back to look at Snape and Voldemort. She hoped the magic she had imbued in the glass would see Tonks able to leave the grounds. Narcissa knew Snape and Tonks’s chances would be grim if they stayed within the grounds of the Manor, but if they could make it beyond, perhaps there was hope.

Light from the Manor flooded down the steps, the gold of lamplight meeting the molten silver of the full moon as Tonks descended to the garden and still more steps. She whimpered, desperate to flee and desperate not to fall as she loped along the drive. The imposing wrought iron gates flanked by tall hedges would be impossible to climb but still Tonks ran towards them. She would find a way. Her arms ached from holding the gown, the swathes of petticoats constantly threatening to slip from her grasp. Fresh air slunk in around the edges of the Volto and she drank in the cool night.

Slowing her pace, her chest heaved as she paused for a moment. When the gates began to open of their own accord, she rushed forward, then she crossed the boundaries of the Manor and stumbled. One of her slippers came off, and she yelped as she only just managed to stop herself from falling. Grappling with her gown, she pulled off the other slipper then ran across the drive and into the woods, slowing as soon as she was within the embrace of the trees. Beneath her feet, the ground was cold, dusty, and a world away from the glass slippers. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, and as Tonks picked her way through the honeysuckle, she ducked beneath a branch and tried to ignore that the air was thick with magic and not just the scent of wildflowers.

Snape was still watching the open doorway when Voldemort strolled around and came up behind him. It was as if a breeze had slunk into the Manor, but the night was still. The blade was so sharp that the only sound was Snape biting back a gasp from the white hot pain of the knife being plunged into his body.

Narcissa watched Snape close his eyes and grimace when Voldemort pulled out the knife. The blade disappeared inside Voldemort’s robes and he leaned closer to Snape.

“I think you ought to find your gift, Severus,” said Voldemort. “If you succeed, we won’t speak of your betrayal again.”

Snape nodded and walked slowly towards the open doors. Blood dripped onto the marble floor and Voldemort held out his arm for Narcissa.

“Tell me, my dear, how is your rose garden faring in this summer heat?” asked Voldemort, as he escorted Narcissa back to the ballroom.

“You do indulge me, my Lord,” she said. “Tomorrow I must show the sweet briars. Their scent is simply divine but Lucius continues to tease me by saying they’re no better than dog roses.”

While Voldemort chuckled, Narcissa hoped the sunrise would bring news of success.

Snape knew better than to try and heal the wound before he was out of Voldemort’s sight. When the doors to Malfoy Manor closed behind him, he pulled out his wand, huffing as he tried to heal the wound. He bit his tongue and closed his eyes. Another attempt, the words spoken this time, and he could feel the magic trying to repair his body. It would have to suffice as he tried not to think it had likely been Bellatrix’s beloved dagger. He needed to find Tonks. Then he could think about surviving. 

Each step down the stone staircase caused pain to ricochet through his body. Every so often he would cast a Homenum Revelio but still there was no trace of her. The gates opened for him and he saw something glowing just beyond them. The change in magic as he left the estate caught him off guard, and he nearly fell when he picked up the glass slipper lying on the ground. He looked around the drive and the edge of the woodland. It took two attempts to cast a Homenum Revelio, and he wasn’t sure if he saw a glow or if it was moonlight, but he started walking again and went into the woods.

Tonks was distracted by getting herself and the ballgown through a patch of thick bracken when a branch caught the headdress and scarf. She untangled herself, and though the headdress was determined to stay in place, one end of the silk flowed around her face and she slung the length of gold over her shoulder.

There was a glow of magic around her. A Homenum Revelio, she realised. She kept moving. 

Snape couldn’t shake the tiredness. He knew better than to think it was because of the dancing. His shirt was stuck to his skin and he couldn’t regulate his breathing. If he tried to do more than walk, he knew he would be spent before he could save either of them.

“There’s nothing but woodland for miles, Tonks,” he said, voice raised, as he caught a glimmer of gold in the trees. “You left one of your slippers, by the way.”

“Are you my Prince Charming?” she called back.

“I’m a spy.”

“And I’m a princess.” The Ministry was pretending Voldemort wasn't back, so who on earth could he be spying for?

“What—what do you know about the Patronus Charm?” The glow of gold was getting bigger with each step he took but he didn’t like how hazy the glow was.

Tonks gave a bitter laugh and pulled her gown away from a patch of enchanter’s nightshade. “Death Eaters can’t cast them.”

“I can.”

They both stopped walking and she turned to look at him. She was terrifying in the moonlight. The preternatural glow of the Volto, and the wealth of gold around her, made her appear as if she were a Veela caught in the last moment before transforming.

He swallowed and summoned what strength and control he had. He had to get her to listen. He couldn’t give her everything. “Expecto Patronum.”

The incorporeal Patronus raced like a river towards Tonks and wrapped around her, whipping up the gold silk so that it hung for a moment behind her like wings. Snape stumbled back against a tree and Tonks lunged towards him. She grabbed his wand and staggered back.

“Incarcerous,” she said, falling to the ground in her desperation to regain some distance between them.

Ropes flew from Snape’s wand and wrapped around him. He dropped the slipper, fell back against a tree, and slid to the ground.

“You can’t produce a corporeal Patronus?” said Tonks, panting as she pushed herself up.

“Of course I can,” he sneered, then he gave a bitter laugh as his robes pressed against him and he realised how much of his clothing was damp.

If he got out of this alive, it would be simpler to destroy the clothes than try to get the blood out. And if he died, it would be with the assumption he wasn’t powerful enough to cast a corporeal Patronus. Brilliant. At least he had an answer as to whether it was Bellatrix’s dagger. The cursed wound needed more healing than he had afforded it. He looked at Tonks who was rather less terrifying as she sat on the ground amongst a cloud of petticoats and gold while turning one of the glass slippers in her hands. She still held his wand and he tried to ignore that it had bent to her will with apparent ease. 

She glanced up at him, wondering why he hadn’t put up a fight, why he hadn’t tried to stop her. 

She tried to transfigure the gown into something simpler but nothing happened.

“Accio slipper,” she said, and the other glass slipper flew to her hand. He had cast a Patronus. An incorporeal one but a Patronus nonetheless. She placed both slippers together on her lap and ran her fingers over the glass as she listened to his breathing. “Lumos.”

He turned his head and closed his eyes at the sudden bright light. He heard her murmur of confusion and the rustling of her gown. His head was pounding as she approached.

“Merlin,” she whispered. “Lumos Minima.” She knelt beside him and the glass slippers clinked as they dropped to the ground. “What happened to you?” 

In the more gentle glow of light, he opened his eyes. “The Dark Lord wanted to make his point clear.”

Tonks ran her hands over the ropes trying to find where the blood was coming from. Snape swore viciously when her hand pressed against his side.

“Some Prince Charming you are.”

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbled.

She sat back on her ankles and vanished the ropes only to conjure them again to bind his wrists together. He huffed and groaned at the way his body was yanked around, his grasp on breathing not up for much interruption. 

She shuffled closer again on her knees and looked at his wand before slipping it handle first inside the bodice of her gown so the illuminated tip was still exposed and gave her light to see by.

"Excuse me?" he said, as he watched her eyes glowing in the Lumos.

"Well it's not like you'll be getting your hands in there."

He couldn't help the laugh, even as it caused a surge of pain and his head to throb even more.

She found herself grateful for the Volto when a smile tugged at her lips, then she hesitated for a moment before reaching for the edges of his robes. Her fingers were already stained red as she lifted the layers of fine fabric but now they were a mess. When she found her wand, she put it inside the bodice alongside Snape's, and rushed to undo the buttons of his shirt. His arms rested heavily on hers as she worked beneath his bound wrists.

She found the wound and swore.

"The dagger missed anything important," he said, slowly. At least, he was fairly sure it had missed anything important, and fairly would have to do. 

"Blood is important," she said, "and there's a lot of it not in you." She withdrew her wand and apologised as she pressed her fingertips around the wound. "It was a cursed blade, wasn't it?"

"Bellatrix's."

"Oh," she said, with a rush of delight.

"This amuses you?"

"Yes," she snapped, before sighing. She looked up and met his tired gaze. "Mum taught me some old magic in case I ever bumped into aunt Bella."

"Old magic?"

"It's not illegal."

"I'm sure it's not," he said. "But wouldn't you prefer me dead?"

"Don't tempt me." 

"You cannot tell anyone of my involvement in tonight."

"Someone would listen," she said. "Someone would have to."

With a low murmur she cast old spells over the wound, her fingers slipping against his body as the ache of kneeling on the ground began to sink deeper. She drew in a deep breath and stopped pushing back against the magic of the woods.

"Please," she breathed.

He watched the shiver race through her and heard the trees and plants rustle around them with a breeze as if the woods had exhaled a deep breath.

She continued the incantations and he slid further down the tree forcing her to move. She wrestled with her gown and straddled his legs, knees sinking into the earth either side of him.

"Don't," she said, firmly, glancing up and meeting his gaze before returning her attention to where he was injured. "You need Blood-Replenishing Potion."

"I need—I need you to listen to me."

"I was a gift." She moved his bound wrists so his arm rested on her shoulder. "A prize."

"You are a test."

"Looks like you're going to fail."

"Tonks, I can't fail."

She brushed her fingers over the healed wound then moved slowly, lifting his arms so she could sit up, and placing his hands on top of where her gown had bunched up between them.

"I'm an Auror," she said, "and even if I wasn't—"

She healed him because he was of more use alive than dead. Not because she believed him. Not because he was at risk from Voldemort's wrath. And definitely not because she knew better than to ignore her gut instinct. She had seen the Wizengamot records. He was a Death Eater. A Death Eater who had cast the one spell he shouldn’t be able to. A Death Eater who hadn't cast a single spell which could harm her.

"You've got a lot of internal bleeding," she said. "Side-Along would kill you, and Merlin knows, I can't Apparate anywhere to get potions for you looking like this."

There was a sound of branches and plants being crushed. 

"Nox," whispered Tonks. She gripped her wand more tightly and leant against Snape as she moved to look around the woods. "Homenum Revelio."

There was no glow but a branch was split apart with a resounding crack and they both turned to see a large creature approaching them.

"Well, hello beautiful," said Tonks, holding out her hand. 

The thestral nuzzled her hand and she stroked the fine coat which covered the skeletal creature. The thestral stepped closer and pushed their head against Snape while Tonks scratched just beneath their mane.

"How long have you been able to see them?" asked Snape. 

"Since I was a child." She brought both her hands to the thestral's head, nudging it away from Snape's side where it was trying to get beneath his robes. "You?"

"Seventeen."

"Voldemort?"

"Not quite."

She nodded and looked back at the thestral. 

“You’re missing a carriage,” said Tonks.

The thestral stepped back and pawed at something big, orange and surrounded by vines which was nestled amongst the exposed roots near the base of the tree. Tonks and Snape both looked at pumpkin then at each other.

“Let’s pretend neither of us saw that,” said Tonks. Snape laughed, though the sound seemed to dissolve into a cough. Frowning, she slipped her wand back in the bodice, and touched his face. “You really need Blood-Replenishing Potion.”

The thestral wandered back to them and recommenced its attempts to find the source of the blood. Absent-mindedly, Tonks scratched the thestral’s jaw and the creature was a little too enthusiastic in rubbing up against her. 

“Tonks, it will be of little benefit if you then run off and tell everyone of tonight.”

She shook her head. “You need the potion.” She began a slow retreat from his lap and saw the moonlight glance off the glass slippers. She picked them up and put them in a pocket inside his robes, then did up his shirt. “Where’s home?”

He laughed, but instead of tricking even a smile from her, she found herself reaching for his hands. She stroked his cold skin, and he met her gaze. 

“We have a ride,” she said, inclining her head towards the thestral who sniffed at her headdress. 

“Why aren’t you escaping on your own?”

With the Volto allowing him only her eyes to study, he found his gaze kept drifting to her shoulders. The moments where the tension would betray her. The moments where she would relax. And he could already find subtle changes in the curve of her neck where the silk had come loose. He knew he needed Blood-Replenishing Potion. He should be suffering more for the blood he had lost. And he was quite sure that if the thestral did take them from the woods, whatever the woods had been keeping at bay would come back with a vengeance.

Tonks pulled out her wand, pointed it at Snape’s wrists, and said, “Evanesco.” The ropes disappeared and she put her wand back in the bodice before looking at the thestral. “This is going to be interesting.” 

Clambering up from the ground in a ball gown shouldn’t have been graceful, and it wasn’t. The wealth of petticoats bounded around her as she tried to wrangle them and navigate the large tree roots, then she lost her balance and toppled forward, her hands slamming against the tree. She stepped back carefully, grateful that it was the tree she had toppled against, and not Snape.

She held out her bloodied hands. “Come on.”

He met her gaze. Why? Why was she doing it? She leant towards his uninjured side and flinched when her hand slipped around his. He tried to tighten his grasp but each movement was wrong and his fingers refused to comply.

“You’re so cold.” Looking up through the trees to the moon, she chewed her lip, then glanced around the woods. “Please?”

Nothing happened.

She sighed, stepped back, and tugged gently on his arm. With slow and clumsy movements, he got to his feet

They didn’t notice the earth beneath them was a little more springy. That the tree gave what warmth it could to him, and that when neither of them were looking, the vines from the pumpkin crept around the tree and stopped him from falling.

He leant against the tree aware that he should be wanting to fall down. Tonks had his hand in hers but her head was turned towards the thestral.

The thestral stepped closer until it was standing alongside them. It raised its wings, extended one leg, bent the other, and dropped into a low bow. 

“Ladies first, isn’t it?” he drawled, but he couldn’t hide how his voice hitched when he breathed too deeply.

“The lady is wearing a ball gown,” she said. “Oh, Merlin.” 

She squeezed his hand then froze.

He let go of her.

She stroked the thestral’s back. The fine black coat was glossy and she let her hand sweep over the curves and bumps of the thestral’s spine and ribs which lay just beneath. She looked down at her gown.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

“Are you talking to the thestral or me?”

“You.”

“But of course.”

He closed his eyes and for a moment knew it would be easy to slip to the ground again. For all the magic in the woods, he knew it couldn’t save him. The one planning not to let him die was swearing, and he could hear the swish of fabric against the thestral’s coat as well as the scurry of dirt beneath feet, then a quiet yelp followed by an ominous silence.

“How are you faring?” he enquired.

“You try doing this in a ball gown,” she snapped. There was another yelp along with the sound of silk whipping through the air. “There’s a good beast.” She tugged the length of gold from a branch and wrapped it around her neck with one hand as she steadied herself on the thestral with the other to keep from toppling forward. “You can look now.” 

Snape looked at the woman who was astride the bowing beast, the front of her gown beneath her and the rest flowing across the thestral’s back, her bare feet just visible beneath the petticoats. Her Volto still glowed white in the moonlight, with the headdress a halo of gold, but now there were dark marks across her gown. The blood shone bright on her skin. And she looked completely at ease.

She held out her hand. 

She needed to get him out of the woods. She needed answers. She needed to stop him dying. 

Snape looked at how far back Tonks had perched herself on the thestral.

“You’ll be safer with me behind you,” she said.

He wanted to complain, but instead he nodded. He took her hand then stumbled forward and swore as he grabbed the thestral's spine. Each breath hurt and his head was spinning. 

Tonks ended up half dragging Snape onto the thestral and he slumped against her, ragged breaths faltering as the thestral rose slowly to stand. She withdrew her wand, cast a warming charm around them, then put her wand back in the bodice. Reaching around him, she gathered the thestral’s long mane in her hands. Tonks squeezed her legs and the thestral began to walk.

“Hey,” she said, softly. “No dying tonight, remember?”

“Just straight to Azkaban,” he said, “or will it be the Ministry?”

Bracken brushed against Tonks’s feet as the thestral walked through the woods. The moonlight was getting brighter, and each time the thestral took them through a patch of wildflowers, heady scents bloomed in the night air. She was sure she could use a Pensieve and the Ministry would still find a way to dismiss what she showed them.

The pain ricocheting through Snape kept him from slumping but he knew that at some point the blood loss would win out over the agony. His hands kept slipping from the thestral’s withers, and without a word, Tonks wrapped the thestral’s mane tight around her hands then took his hands in hers.

“I was thinking of wherever there’s Blood-Replenishing Potion,” she said, as they approached a clearing in the woods.

Plants which reached no higher than the thestral’s fetlocks had delicate white blooms which formed constellations across the clearing. The thestral stopped and pawed at the ground, shaking its head then stretching out its wings.

“Beauty here needs to know where we’re going,” said Tonks.

A trip to Hogwarts would definitely kill him. There was only one other place to go. “Spinner’s End.”

Tonks clicked her tongue and the thestral turned its head to look at her with its eyes as white as the moon above. 

“Can you take us to Spinner’s End?” she said. “And gently?”

The thestral pawed at the ground again and looked up at the sky. It lifted its front legs, as if about to rear, but beat its wings and rose into the air. Despite a brief jolt, Tonks and Snape were barely jostled as the thestral flew with measured movements. With another beat of its wings, they soared above the canopy of the woods, and Snape was reminded that he disliked heights. Tonks glanced down at the woodland as the thestral climbed gently higher, and she couldn’t find the clearing. She frowned then looked ahead. A part of her wanted to rest her chin on his shoulder but the Volto and headdress wouldn’t allow her to. He was managing to keep his head up but she hadn’t missed the moments where he seemed to force himself to.


	2. Chapter 2

They had been flying over fields and hills for a time, the steady beats of the thestral’s wings keeping them at a comfortable speed. Every so often they would fly over villages and skirt around towns. The cottages like the glow of Lumos charms scattered in the landscape, and towns rising above the horizon in sparkling domes of light.

Except for the beating of the thestral’s wings, there was little noise to disturb them. The roads they did cross were all but deserted. Tonks longed to hear stronger breaths from Snape.

“My family is up there,” she said. "Mum, Draco, grandpa Cygnus." 

She glanced around but couldn't find anyone else. It would be months before she could see Sirius and Bellatrix at this time of night. And her great grandfather Pollux had stopped being visible weeks before. She sighed heavily, and there was a flicker of movement against her hands. 

“You must know where Draco is," she said.

“Draco—Draco has known the family since he was a toddler." Snape coughed and groaned, and Tonks squeezed his hand. "Couldn't pronounce them all but he would point to each constellation when asked."

"It's the only relationship I have with them," she said, quietly.

"Surely you've met them before?"

"Diagon Alley and the Ministry." There was a strange longing she couldn't place. Shouldn't place. The quiet wondering of how much she was really hated. "Tonight was the first time I've ever spoken to Draco."

"And Narcissa?"

"Once told me to get out of her way in Twilfitt and Tattings, then left with Lucius and Draco when they came in." She shouldn't be telling him any of this, then she blurted out, "I've seen Bellatrix in Azkaban."

She did manage to refrain from saying she had met Sirius properly with Remus a week earlier at Lupin Cottage. He didn't hate her. A shiver raced through her and she pressed herself against Snape before sighing.

“What’s Voldemort planning?”

“You think I would tell you?”

“Nothing to lose by asking.”

“Quite.” The word was barely audible and Tonks had to squeeze Snape’s hands twice before he responded with a mumbled, “Tired.”

Tonks was warm and he wasn’t. He had vague memories of the warming charm and didn’t know if the charm was fading or if the night was that cold. He didn’t like how low the thestral was flying but any higher would be intolerable. One side of his body was considerably colder than the other and he could feel the spread of fabric around him which was rendered still damp by blood. Every breath brought a hitch. What had been intermittent was constant. And his head, Merlin, his head.

“Blood-Replenishing Potion is made with antimony, isn’t it?” asked Tonks. “And,” she sighed thoughtfully, “sopophorous beans.” She could feel him tensing. “Syrup of hellebore. Or arnica. I always used to get them mixed up.”

She was trying to kill him.

“Oh, it wasn’t hellebore or arnica, it was syrup of valerian.” She gave a contented sigh. It shouldn’t take much longer. “And then there’s the wiggentree essence and—”

“Wormwood essence,” he snapped, with what little energy he had, before groaning. “You are doing this deliberately. I know you aren’t stupid.”

“It’s the altitude,” she said, lightly. “You know what they say about Aurors in high places.”

Below them, a river appeared as if mercury had been poured across the landscape. 

“Narcissa does precisely this whenever she’s annoyed with me,” he said.

Tonks couldn’t stop herself laughing. “She takes you on thestral rides and torments you about potions?”

“Just the potions.”

“Tell me about the Blood-Replenishing Potion.”

“You know how it’s made.”

“But I want you to tell me.”

She wanted him to keep talking. With her arms wrapped around him, and her body against his back, she felt each precarious inhalation. Every time she considered taking one of her hands from him and the thestral’s mane, in order to cast the warming charm again, she knew the risk to their balance would be too much. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, she squeezed her legs around the thestral. The air rushed past them a little quicker and they soared over motorways which looked like they were edged with fairy lights. 

“It has to be made in copper cauldrons, doesn’t it?”

He swore and launched into a diatribe about cauldrons which lasted barely fifteen seconds before he stopped and tried to catch his breath. When he tried to speak again, his words collapsed into a groan.

“Don’t rush,” she cautioned, wondering if she had pushed him too far. “I know it doesn’t require a specific one, but it’s always better quality if it’s brewed in a brass cauldron.”

“Because of how the heat tran—tran—”

“Transfers?”

“Yes,” he mumbled. 

She coaxed him through talking about the Blood-Replenishing Potion and tried to ignore how her hands ached. How the thestral’s mane, while soft, still managed to dig into her hands as time passed. Strands cutting into her palms and rubbing against her knuckles. The Volto did afford her some protection from the night air but her back was cold and no amount of gentle wriggling could persuade the bodice to move further up, and as it was, wriggling against him wasn’t perhaps the best idea. She knew he was flagging. The blood on his robes was almost dry against her arms where she had slipped them beneath his, but she was more worried about the deep red bruising she had seen blooming across his body. She needed to get him to whatever Spinner’s End was. She needed him to live. 

She tried to edge her fingers down to his wrist and he gave a choked laugh. 

“Worried?” he said, slurring. 

“Wondering why you’d risk this when you could have Apparated to Spinner’s End the moment you were away from the Manor.” 

“What—what part of keeping this secret has evaded you?” A wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. 

She pressed her fingers to his wrist and didn’t bother trying to count. Whatever the number might be, she knew it wasn’t good. Trailing her fingers up to take his hand, she sighed heavily and tried again without thinking to rest her chin on his shoulder, the headdress and Volto forcing her to straighten up. She wiggled her toes and turned her feet in circles. The warming charm was holding on by the barest tendrils of magic. It was a charm not meant for use in such cold or under such pressure, but she’d been mindful of what she could cast with the thestral to think of, too. 

“How much further do we have to go?” she asked.

He didn’t want to admit that his eyes kept closing for too long. That he had long since stopped watching for the towns and cities. 

“Birmingham,” he mumbled. “When was Birmingham?” He couldn’t bring himself to think that they hadn’t passed the city, because if that was the case, he definitely wouldn’t be making it to Spinner’s End alive.

“A little while ago,” she said. The city had lit up the horizon like a sunrise nestled in the landscape, and she had been waiting for it as she followed the North Star and realised what direction the thestral was taking them.

“Half way.”

“We’re only half way?” The edges of dawn were touching the dark night and Tonks risked urging the thestral faster still. “Just,” she sighed, “we’ll get there.” We have to, she thought.

She didn’t try prodding him about potions, but kept herself close against him and urged the thestral faster still. As he leaned more heavily on her, she let her gaze drift to the bright glow of Venus. She needed him to live, and in her arms, he was dying. 

Tonks knew they must be getting closer to Spinner’s End when the thestral didn’t skirt around the town they were approaching. Instead the thestral began to slow as roads disappeared beneath them. There was the orange glow of street lamps along some pavements while others were lit only by the coming dawn. The houses became smaller and soon they were above an area of terraces. The green spaces all but disappeared except for the banks of the river the thestral was following. Tonks’s heart began to pound as she wondered if the thestral had misunderstood Snape. Her head darted around. There were graffitied walls and windows boarded up, and it had been several rows of houses since she last caught sight of working street lamps. 

There was only the slightest jolt as the thestral’s hooves landed on the cobbled street. It was near the corner of two rows of terraces, and there were doors either side of them.

“Home,” rasped Snape. Home. He wanted to know what Tonks was thinking, all the while aware of how she had wrapped herself around him, and aware that he was barely holding on.

“Home?” said Tonks, without thinking. This was barely a house. There were busy roads in the distance and the river nearby. Birds chattering as the edges of sunrise slowly bled into the night. And his ragged breathing. Absent-mindedly, she stroked his hands with her thumbs. “Which door?”

“Green.”

“Of course.” She clicked her tongue and the thestral turned to look at her. “Beauty, could you walk us to the green front door?”

The thestral walked across the cobbles and stopped beside the one green door. The paint wasn’t fresh, but neither was it peeling like all the other doors. The house appeared to be one of the only properties where the windows weren’t boarded up, either.

“Thank you.”

Tonks winced as she stretched her hands after keeping them tight around the thestral’s mane and Snape’s hands for the journey. She rubbed his arms as she stretched her legs and turned her feet in circles. She was cold and even as she wiggled her toes, she knew dismounting the thestral was going to hurt.

She slid her hands down to his hips. “Don’t move.”

He made a sound of agreement. Or possibly argument. She didn’t care. She just needed him to wait until she was on the ground. His head was almost on his chest, his hair hanging over his face, and where his skin caught in the moonlight, he looked like a ghost. In his colombina he looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

She stroked the thestral’s back, and keeping one hand in front of Snape near the thestral’s withers, she slipped the other between them and pressed down on the thestral’s back as she dismounted. Her gown swept against the thestral’s coat and bunched up between her and Snape. As soon as her feet were on the cobblestones, she put her arms around Snape, and there was a string of incoherent expletives. There was little volume behind his words, but there was an ever faltering accent.

“I’ve got you,” she said, “just swing your leg over.”

She nudged him gently and he huffed. With clumsy movements, he dismounted. She kept her arms around him and he tried to grab her to steady himself but his hands still weren’t working properly. She met his gaze, and his dark eyes were barely open.

She clicked her tongue and the thestral looked at her.

“Come here,” she said. The thestral turned and for a moment she risked taking an arm from around Snape so that she could scratch the thestral’s jaw. “Thank you, beauty. I’d kiss you if I wasn’t wearing this stupid mask.”

She put her arm around Snape again and the thestral gently bumped its head against her shoulder.

“He’s grateful, too,” she said to the thestral. “Promise.”

The thestral was more gentle when it nudged Snape, and he said a mumbled, “Thank you.”

With that, the thestral stepped back, reared up, and with one powerful beat of its wings, was above the rooftops of Spinner’s End.

“If I try to dismantle these wards, what am I going to run into first?” she asked.

“Don’t dismantle,” he said, quietly. He could hear how his accent was faltering but it was either getting words out or not speaking at all. “Wand.”

Tonks withdrew his wand from her bodice, not realising how she had come to ignore that the two wands had been pressing against her body for the duration of their journey.

She placed the wand in his hand, then wrapped her hand around his. “Do you just need the wards to recognise you?” He shook his head and she bit her lip. “Let me do it with you?”

He wondered if she was blushing because when he found her eyes amongst the white and gold adorning her, she was looking up at the sky and her chest was heaving against his body. Still, she kept her hand around his, and he didn’t like that he would have dropped his wand otherwise.

He tried to murmur the spell but to no effect. 

“Wait,” she said.

She got out her wand and placed it in both their hands before putting her arm around him again. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think he would use more complex wards than most, and while she knew she could dismantle them, she knew she didn’t have time. But another wand being shared willingly? It might just be enough to help channel what magic he had.

It was as though they were back in the woodlands. Just for a moment, hands around wands, bodies against each other, the air around them became thick with magic. From a distance, they might have been mistaken for pausing in the middle of a dance. The lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal a dark hallway.

“The—the wards—when the door closes—” 

“They’ll fall back into place when the door is closed?” said Tonks.

“Yes.”

“My gown is bigger than that door,” said Tonks, taking both wands. She swore while the scraps of a laugh fell from his lips. She tried again to transfigure the gown but it stayed as it was, and she slipped the wands inside the bodice. She wanted to know what magic could make petticoats so uncooperative. “Come on.”

Stepping back, Tonks led Snape into the house, having to stop several times to hold him closer while she grabbed fistfuls of the gown to persuade it inside. When they made it into the hallway, Tonks pushed the door closed. There was the click of the lock and a brief glow of the wards settling back into place. She had him up against the wall but could see almost nothing, not enough light making it through the glass panes of the door while the sun made gentle efforts to rise.

“Can I Accio the Blood-Replenishing Potion?”

“Doors.” 

“Okay.” She tried to rest her head on his shoulder and immediately swore as the Volto pressed against her face. “Is it upstairs or downstairs?”

“Up.”

Then he fell down.

He couldn’t keep his footing, and despite Tonks holding onto him, he had no strength left. She was unable to let him go in time and landed on his lap, straddling him as his feet hit the other side of the narrow hallway. She murmured his name but he couldn’t articulate a response. 

She felt his hands and face. She took both wands from her bodice and with her own, cast another warming charm, then felt his hands again. It would have to do.

“Close your eyes,” she said, putting the wands on the floor beside her.

There was a mumble of agreement.

“And keep them closed.”

Something like an amused sound came from him, then he slid sideways until she grabbed him.

“Okay, so you’re going to lie down slowly first,” she said, as much to herself as to him.

She rose up onto her knees as she guided him onto the threadbare carpet. He groaned when his head met the floor then he gave a heavy sigh.

Tonks clambered up and ran her fingers over the headdress several times before she felt the delicate pins and ties. Pins and ties which seemed too delicate considering what the headdress had withstood over the night. But each time Tonks thought she was done, something else pulled at her when she tried to take it off. It was too long before she was free of the headdress and able to fully unwrap the silk scarf. Then there was the Volto. One tug and the ribbon came loose and the mask almost dropped to the floor before Tonks grabbed it. She held the Volto in her hands and gasped for air. A bow? Was that really all which had allowed her to hide and be hidden? With one hand she wiped her face and was overwhelmed with an urge to cry. To scream and sob as she thought of the hours since Narcissa had looked at her in the mirror. Tonks sniffed and put the Volto down beside the headdress and scarf. 

She ran her fingers up and down the back of the gown’s bodice, feeling the lacing taut from where Narcissa had dressed her. Tonks rested her head against the wall, arms aching as she tried to find where the lacing had been tied. Picking up her wand, she tried to transfigure the gown again to no avail. There had to be a way. 

It was a stupid idea. It wouldn’t possibly work.

“Alohamora,” she whispered.

The lacing flew through the holes and she felt the bodice and skirt relax around her. It was only when Tonks pushed the gown off, and it collapsed to the floor with a soft thud, that she remembered what she was wearing underneath. That the one piece of lingerie she wore matched the gown hadn’t been of any comfort when she got dressed and it wasn’t a comfort as she considered what lay ahead. She swore and stepped out of the gown to grab the wands. Snape was still on the floor and she wasn’t sure if she could hear his breathing or the petticoats still collapsing one upon another.

“Lumos minima,” she said, and a soft glow lit up the hallway.

The staircase was almost in front of her and she ran upstairs, the bare treads well worn and quiet. There was a tiny landing with three doors leading off it. The first door led to a bathroom, the second to a bedroom, and the third to what was unmistakably a potions lab. She darted inside and thanked Merlin that Snape was organised as she looked through cupboards of labelled vials, bottles, jars, and boxes. She grabbed two bottles of Blood-Replenishing Potion and left the lab. She was about to run back downstairs when she went into the bedroom.

The double bed took up most of the space with what was left being occupied by a wardrobe and chest of drawers. The room needed painting, but it was otherwise clean and tidy. All she wanted was something to put on, robes would do, even a shirt. She put the bottles on the bed and opened the drawers. He owned Muggle clothing? She stared at the jeans and t-shirts, then a shiver ran through her. She grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on, then took out a pair of jeans. They were a snug fit over her thighs, the button was never going to be done up, and they were a shade too long but she was dressed. She grabbed the bottles and the wands, and ran back downstairs, grateful that he prefered regular jeans to skinny ones.

For a moment, she thought he was dead, then his eyelids flickered as she held her wand above him.

“Hey,” she said, kneeling beside him. “I found the Blood-Replenishing Potion.”

There was a noisy exhale but nothing else. She opened both bottles and put them back on the threadbare carpet beside the wands then shuffled around until she was close enough to edge her arm under his head and around his shoulders. She picked up one of the bottles and brought it to his lips, tipping it until the deep red potion trickled from the glass and into his mouth. Little by little, he swallowed the potion. The second bottle went down more quickly but she still wondered if it was too little too late. 

Her back ached but she didn’t move, too intent on watching his face to see any return of colour or flicker of his eyes. She reached for his hand, to feel his temperature, nothing more.

She was warm. That was his first thought beyond the haze of pain and swallowing potions. Her arm was around him and she was holding his hand. Soft fingers around his. Blood-Replenishing Potion. They were at Spinner’s End. He opened his eyes and saw hers watching him in the glow of a Lumos. Her sigh of relief was more like laughter and she smiled.

“Hello,” she said.

He tried to reply but found himself coughing instead.

“Let’s get you upstairs and I can get more potions in you before you sleep.”

He wanted to protest. He wanted his wand back. Merlin, he wanted to sleep. She helped him to sit up and he closed his eyes again. At least he knew this house. She put his arm over her shoulders and slowly she helped him to stand. The staircase was an exercise in patience as much as effort while she told him how much further there was to go. Perhaps she had realised the house was his. He wondered if she knew for how long. This house was practically in his blood.

When they got to the bedroom, Tonks helped Snape to lie down then went back through to the lab. She got her wand from her back pocket and found more Blood-Replenishing Potion, along with a couple of different potions to strengthen and heal, as well as a mild sleeping draught. She hesitated, taking a moment to look properly at the potions which covered the shelves in an array of containers now that her focus was no longer solely on Blood-Replenishing Potion. There was no doubting he was a Death Eater by the potions he kept, but she wondered at the sheer number of healing potions there were. Ones which had been brewed recently if the colours were anything to go by. Why would a Death Eater have so many potions for healing? She chewed her lip as she returned to the bedroom. He kept his eyes closed and didn’t protest when she held the bottles and vials to his lips. Once all the potions were downed, she picked up the blankets and lay them over him. She got off the bed, picked up the empty bottles and vials and stood in the doorway listening to him breathe. She had tried. 

Standing in the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror in the light of a Lumos. The t-shirt had specks of potions and dirt and blood on it, just like the jeans which wouldn’t do up. She was covered in potions, dirt, and blood, too. She pulled the t-shirt off and saw the extent to which the blood covered her.

The bathroom was a small and vaguely modern extension. Like the other rooms she had seen, it was simple and unconcerned with niceties, but it was clean and tidy. A small cupboard held towels and cloths. Taking off the clothes, it took her a moment to realise the shower wasn’t electric, and she wondered at the strange hybrid of the Muggle and wizarding world shoved inside the tiny brick building.

The sunrise was visible through the obscured glass of the window, and she knew there was a recovering Death Eater in the next room, but she wanted to be clean. She finished undressing and cast what cleaning spells she could remember on the clothes before stepping into the shower. She didn’t know how long she stood under the shower but she watched the water change colour and felt like she was back in the woods. It wasn’t just the smell of earth or the wildflowers but something else which she couldn’t place. Hands on the tiles, she let the water fall across her back and tried to take deep breaths. He cast a Homenum Revelio. He cast a Patronus. No Avada Kedrava shot at random between the trees. No Crucio on sight. No Imperius to force her silence. He was a Death Eater. He served Voldemort. Followed his master’s orders. Followed her into the woods. His master had wounded him and he hadn’t harmed her.

She turned off the shower, and got out. Drying charms saw to the worst of her wet hair and she bundled it up with a sticking charm. No drying charm could stop her skin being just damp enough to quarrel with the denim but she managed to pull on the jeans and transfigure them to a better fit. With the t-shirt on, she left the towel and cloths she’d used in as neat a pile as possible on the floor beside the shower. 

Her gown, scarf, Volto, and headdress seemed to glow in the light of the Lumos as she went downstairs. There was no point moving the pile of gold and she edged around it as she looked through the rest of the house. There was a living room which was floor to ceiling bookcases except for a fireplace, and a desk tucked beneath the window. The kitchen was part of the extension which housed the bathroom upstairs. Like the rest of the house, it was modern if basic. Bundles of herbs, plants, and flowers tied up in twine were strung from the ceiling. The fireplace was bigger, with a small oven beside it. There was a copper kettle hanging above and space for cauldrons. Tonks opened the cupboards and found one simply held different kinds of coffee. She took out one of the packs and coughed from the strength of the aroma before putting it back. 

Returning to the living room, she looked at the titles of the books and managed one wall before having to stand up straight and stretch her neck. Her gaze kept drifting to the desk. There was a quiet elegance in the carved wood which adorned the otherwise simple piece of furniture. The desk had drawers on either side of where the chair was tucked beneath. Above was an open rolltop. Quills and bottles of ink lay on the writing surface along with blank sheets of parchment. She didn’t expect the drawer to open, but she pulled gently on the handle and the soft scrape of wood accompanied the sight of more parchment. She shouldn’t be looking through his things. He was a Death Eater. Voldemort was back. She looked at the drawn curtains which couldn’t quite keep out the increasing light.

She picked up one piece of parchment after another, putting them on the desk once she had looked at them. Invoices and orders from apothecaries. Communications from potions journals. A letter from Narcissa. Tonks caught only the signature before realising she couldn’t bring herself to read it. There was a note from McGonagall about how many N.E.W.T. students to expect for the coming term. Then Tonks picked up a black and white photo. It looked like a couple on their wedding day. The print was on paper so firm it felt almost like card. The people looked familiar and she turned the photo to look at the back where she saw, in a long looping script: Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape—1959. Looking back at the couple it all made sense and she dropped the photo into the drawer as if it had burned her. She shouldn’t have been looking. Oh, Merlin. She put the rest of the papers back, closed the drawer, and looked around until she saw the lone armchair and all but ran the few feet towards it. There was a blanket slung over the back which she pulled down and wrapped around herself. She cast her own wards on the room and put both wands in her lap.

Sunlight was flooding in through the open curtains and Snape was in agony. Pushing himself up, he realised he was still in his formal robes, and that his vision was fine but for the Colombina. He took off the mask and rubbed his face. There was a clinking from one of his pockets. It couldn’t be. It was. He took out the glass slippers and put them on the bed beside him. He felt for his wand but couldn’t find it anywhere, nor could he see it on the bed. His side hurt but he knew from bitter experience the bruising would take an infernal length of time to ease even with potions.

He got up and wobbled. He remembered Tonks giving him potions. He suspected she had slipped a sleeping draught in there, too, but if she wanted to ensure an easy escape, he had to admire the effort of making sure he couldn’t follow even as the other potions took effect. He went through to the lab and saw the empty bottles and vials. He managed to drag gratitude out of somewhere for what she had given him. It was more than the basics, even if it had included a sleeping draught.

From the top of the stairs he saw the bloodied gown, scarf, headdress, and Volto. As he descended, he caught sight of the empty bottles of Blood-Replenishing Potion beside them. If she wasn’t wearing the gown, then— 

She was sound asleep and curled up in his armchair. With his blanket. In his jeans and t-shirt. And his wand on her lap beside hers. She was still here. He could feel the wards emanating from the doorway. He sighed and walked quietly back upstairs.

He wanted to be angry that she had used the shower but he just wanted to get out of the blood-soaked robes and clean up after the night before. Grateful that a wandless charm was enough to get the hot water running, the heat still stung as water hit the wound and bruises. She was the reason he had survived. Merlin, don’t let it be a life debt. What magic had those woods cast on them?

Tonks grabbed both wands and aimed them at the source of the knocking. Snape was standing in the doorway, glass slippers in hand, wearing jeans and a long sleeved top.

“You forgot these,” he said.

“Nice accent.” She brushed her hair back and lowered the wards.

He narrowed his eyes. So his accent had slipped during the night.

“Reminded me of my grandpa,” she said, smiling. He frowned and she laughed. “The sweet Muggle one, not the scary Pureblood.”

“Indeed.” He walked over to the desk and put down the glass slippers. Pulling out the chair, he turned it to face her, then he sat down. “How are you?”

“Those Crucios sure come with a morning after kick, don’t they?” She rubbed her neck, sat up straighter, and stretched her back.

He nodded in agreement.

“How come there’s no electricity here?” she asked, unable to stop the question which had been fluttering around the back of her mind since they arrived.

“A Muggle electrician who was happy to be paid in cash removed what little wiring used to be here.”

“You Obliviated them, didn’t you?”

He couldn’t stop the small laugh. “Yes,” he admitted. “I assume they were happy not to remember the details given how much they were paid.”

He wondered if this was how she looked when she was herself. Hair which wasn’t as dark as Andromeda’s, and soft brown eyes. 

She tried to reconcile the Death Eater in formal robes who could waltz in front of Voldemort, to the man who seemed at home in Muggle clothes in a Muggle house. Albeit a Muggle house which was saturated by magic.

“You look different,” he murmured.

“Because I’m in your clothes or because I’m considering whether or not to tell anyone about last night?”

“Well I don’t think it’s because you’re concerned about the Apparition of shame.”

She laughed despite herself. 

“I did manage to cast a Patronus, didn’t I?” He didn’t like that he was unsure. That the night felt like a mix of dreams and waking. But the wound was real and so was she.

“In the woods,” she said, looking at the wands in her lap before glancing up at him. “An incorporeal one.”

“I can’t show you its corporeal form.”

She tilted her head, not bothering to try and hide her confusion. Her gaze drifted to his left arm. That he was a Death Eater wasn’t a secret. That he had returned to Voldemort was. But Fudge kept telling the Auror department not to believe rumours. Dumbledore was just trying to stir up trouble.

Snape pushed up his sleeve to show the Dark Mark which was almost black. “Satisfied?” he sneered.

“No,” she said, caught off guard as she thought of how unhappy Moody looked each time Fudge walked into their offices. “I’m just wondering how you plan to prove this innocence of yours.”

“I never claimed to be innocent,” he said, standing up. “I just need you to keep this secret.”

She shot him a glare as she stood up. “I knew you were a Death Eater, and Merlin, Moody hates you.” She shouldn’t step closer to him. She glanced at the floor. “But I’ve seen the Wizengamot records. You’re meant to be on our side.”

“I knew nothing about Crouch until I witnessed the Polyjuice Potion wearing off, and his Veritaserum confession in front of Dumbledore.”

She didn’t like that she believed him. She didn’t like that she had seen him bow to Voldemort. 

“This isn’t good, Severus!” Tonks’s eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. She groaned. “Snape. Sir. Bastard.”

“My parents were married.”

Guilt flashed across her features and her gaze darted to the desk. 

“Tell me, did you have fun ransacking my house while I was unconscious?”

“You weren’t kidding about being a Prince.”

“Not the kingdom you were expecting?”

“There are worse things to rule over.” She thought of the Imperiused Muggles. “Who are you?”

“A spy.”

“Yet you’ve given me no proof beyond a Patronus.”

He clasped his hands behind his neck as he stared at the ceiling and her gaze darted to the bruising which covered his side. He sighed heavily then winced and lowered his arms to slip his hands in his pockets.

“What about a Pensieve?” he said. “You know the difference between a true memory and one that’s been tampered with?”

“Of course I do,” she said, looking around the room. “You have a Pensieve?”

Snape went over to the desk and crouched down to lift the edge of the rug. Tonks followed him and knelt on the chair to peer over at the gap where he had lifted a small piece of floorboard. In amongst the foundations was a dusty wooden box. Removing the lid revealed a bundle of fabric. He took the object out and as he unwrapped the linen, she saw a metal basin with latin embossed around the edge. He placed the Pensieve on the desk then arched a brow when he looked at her kneeling on the chair. She got up and he swung the chair out of the way, putting the fabric over the back of it.

“Do you know how to take a memory from another person?” 

“I’ve done it a few times.” She stepped closer. “Part of Auror training.”

She made sure his wand was in her pocket. His pocket. She was wearing his jeans. Oh, Merlin. She met his dark gaze and swallowed. Taking a deep breath, she brought the tip of her wand to his temple. The memories came away without resistance and she forced herself to concentrate on her magic and not on his gaze which was fixed on her. She sensed the end of the memories and transferred them to the Pensieve. He came up behind her and she grabbed his wand from her pocket but all he did was reach around her to shake the Pensieve. 

“Ladies first,” he said.

She took his hand, not giving him a chance to protest, and entered the Pensieve. 

They stood side by side as they watched Barty Crouch Jr. confess, then Dumbledore asked Snape to return to Voldemort before the memory swirled again and changed. Her grip on him tightened reflexively as he sat in the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk. When allowing her to take the memories he was careful to make sure there was no mention of the Order. There was no avoiding the state he had been in when he returned to Dumbledore. No avoiding the request to spy reiterated and the confirmation restated. Her fingers dug into his hand as she looked on in horror. The memories ended and then they were back in the living room of Spinner’s End.

She fumbled to grab his wand from her pocket and pressed it against his body. Her heart was pounding. Her head was spinning. He took his wand from her but didn’t try to take his other hand from her tight grasp. She was vaguely aware of him leaning closer and he stretched to retrieve the memories from the Pensieve and return them. 

“You’re on our side?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Are any of the other Death Eaters?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Voldemort tortured you?”

“What else do you think he would have done?” He searched her shining eyes. “If I hadn’t gone back I still would have been tortured."

"But?"

"I don't need to spell it out, do I?"

She whimpered and leant against him, jumping when he winced. She let go of his hand and without thinking lifted his top. She looked at the wound and ran her fingers lightly over his body. At least he wasn’t cold anymore. And he would recover. She was vaguely aware of his hands on her arms. She lowered his top, hooked her fingers through the belt loops on his jeans, and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. 

“What’s your decision then?” he asked.

“I gave your wand back,” she said, quietly. “Isn’t that answer enough?”

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She raised her head and met his gaze. “I want to help. I want to do something. Voldemort’s returned and—” She groaned and let her head fall back to his shoulder.

He hesitated, then said, “Has Moody asked to speak with you in private at all?”

“He was going to on Thursday, along with Kingsley. Why?”

“This Thursday?” said Snape. “As in today?”

She swore and stepped back looking around for a clock. When she saw the time, she swore more loudly. She was only twenty minutes late for work, but she needed to change, and Moody had a habit of hexing people who were five minutes late. Anything later tended to involve creeping into the offices using a Protego, distractions, and preferably a decent reason. “I need to go, I need to get to work, I need—”

“You need to listen to Moody,” said Snape.

“I need to figure out how to stop him hexing me when I turn up late for work.” She glanced at the glass slippers which sat on the desk beside the Pensieve. She could live with getting home barefoot before hightailing it to the Ministry. “Merlin, I’ll have to come up with a good excuse.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“What will Voldemort do when he finds out I’m still alive?”

“Assuming no news is made public of my return, he will believe I convinced you that I’m a spy for him.”

“Do you even know who you’re betraying anymore?”

He rubbed his jaw and gave a bitter laugh. “You’ve no idea,” he said, quietly.

“Is he going to hurt you again?”

“No worse than what Moody will do to you.”

She smiled at the lie and had to stop herself stepping closer, ignoring that she had already been too close. In his arms. Against him and on him. She had danced with him, bound him, healed him. She stepped around him, and he followed her into the hall.

He stood beside her as she looked at the gold and blood piled in a heap in front of them.

“I kept trying to transfigure it,” she said, “but it wouldn’t give in to anything I tried.”

“Narcissa will probably have enchanted it one way or another,” he said, pointing his wand at the heap and achieving nothing despite casting a number of charms, hexes, and curses at it. 

“What should we do with it?” Tonks stretched her foot to nudge the Volto and wobbled, falling towards Snape who put his arm around her. She straightened up and he took his arm from her, but not before she wondered that he had thought to catch her.

“Were you planning on attending Narcissa’s next ball?”

Tonks’s laugh faded into a sigh and she tucked her hair behind her ear. “It was a beautiful gown.”

He didn’t like how much he preferred seeing her in jeans and a t-shirt. His jeans and t-shirt. Merlin, this was a mess. If it was possible to ignore the terror, the anger, the tears, then yes, she had looked beautiful in the gown. He flexed his fingers around his wand. The gown. She had been talking about the gown. The gown was beautiful. 

Tonks spotted the empty bottles of Blood-Replenishing Potion on the floor and clambered over the gown to pick them up. 

“You need to get to work,” said Snape, moving the gown aside and taking the bottles from her. 

“Thank you.” She reached for the door handle without thinking and when it opened looked back and forth between Snape and street outside. “The wards—”

“Let anyone out,” he said, “they just don’t let anyone in.”

He realised then that she hadn’t even tried to leave. 

She walked out onto the cobblestones and looked around. The street was different in the daylight. More ragged somehow, yet also less intimidating. The abandoned houses sat in silent companionship and the river nearby was joined by the sound of birds. The sun had risen, and touched by gold, the fields of brick were softened. These had been homes. At least one still was. And there was a chill that swirled along the terraces and reminded her this would have been a tough place to live at the best of times. She didn’t want to think of the worst.

“Tonks?”

She spun around. “Sorry.” She tried to smile, wondering when she forgot how to say goodbye. “Work, Moody, I better.” She inclined her head in what she knew was probably the wrong direction.

“Good luck with Moody.”

“Thanks.” She bit her lip, met his gaze, then turned and Disapparated.

She Apparated to the lane near her flat and managed to sneak indoors unnoticed. She changed quickly, then left for the Ministry. Moody wasn’t pleased but he only hexed her once before asking her to join him and Kingsley in his office. He closed the door and warded the room heavily. Tonks and Kingsley exchanged a glance as Moody stomped back to his chair and told them to sit down. Moody answered one of Kingsley’s questions about what time the Order of the Phoenix was meeting at the weekend, and Tonks’s gaze drifted to a map of London which was pinned to the wall. Snape told her to listen to Moody. He was a spy for Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was head of the Order. She rubbed her face and looked back at Moody, who handed her and Kingsley pieces of parchment with an address on them. 

Snape tried again to transfigure, charm, and persuade the gown to take another form. To do anything except lie there glowing in smug determination to exist. In that moment he didn’t fear Voldemort, but he did fear Narcissa’s reaction if she were to find out how he planned to deal with the gown, but he had no intention of taking it back to Malfoy Manor. He went into the street and cast a Homenum Revelio followed by Muggle repelling charms, then he took the gown outside, before going back for the Volto, scarf, headdress, and slippers. With everything in a pile on the cobblestones, he went back inside to the kitchen and made a mug of coffee before going up to the lab. It didn’t take long to put everything together, and with great care, he took the vials and coffee out into the street. He put the vials on the gown then went back to the front door. It wasn’t the first time he had used Greek Fire, but nonetheless, he had no plans to stand beside it. He levitated the mass of gold, cast strong wards around it, then turned it until the vials smashed against each other, and a ball of flame erupted within the magical confines. Leaning against the doorframe, he drank his coffee slowly, watching the gold put up an extraordinary fight against the Greek Fire. It took the best part of half an hour before the fire had burned itself out destroying everything inside the wards. Snape left the wards in place and made another mug of coffee before going out and seeing if the fire was truly gone. Wards lowered, the ash looked more like stardust, somehow still glinting gold as the breeze blew it across the cobbles. 

On Saturday afternoon, in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Snape talked to Kingsley while Tonks stood on the other side of the room chatting to Molly. They shared a glance but nothing more. He was in his usual black robes, and she had come straight from the Auror department in hers. Dumbledore swept in, and everyone went quiet as he began the Order of the Phoenix meeting, and introduced the two newest members. As the meeting went on, Tonks realised how little people knew of Snape’s involvement. He was masquerading as a Death Eater again, he had returned to Voldemort on Dumbledore’s orders, and little more than that was said. No question of what he had gone through on his return. Not any wondering of what he had to do to maintain his place in Voldemort’s ranks. She did see the looks of discomfort on others at being reminded that there was a Death Eater in their midst. Then there was the mention of his meeting with Voldemort earlier in the week. Just a meeting, nothing else. She wondered what he had told Dumbledore. She had told no one of what had happened. Dumbledore didn’t linger on Snape but quickly moved on to what was happening inside the Ministry. When the meeting was over, Snape was one of the first to leave. Molly started talking to Tonks again, sharing words of reassurance. That it was a lot to get used to. That she was not to worry. And did she want a mug of tea?

Spinner’s End was a quiet street, and with so many broken lamps in the vicinity, it was a little easier to see the night’s sky than elsewhere nearby. Snape was leaning against the doorframe, a mug in hand as he looked up at the night’s sky. He didn’t usually stargaze, but with all the potion making earlier in the day, he wanted fresh air in the house and found himself content to watch the stars and planets while the door was open. It wasn’t long after midnight, and looking to the east, he could just make out Mars. The red hues unmistakable, just like the threats of the war which was coming.

Tonks Apparated to the street and was met by Snape pointing his wand at her. He lowered his wand and looked her up and down. Hours before they had seen each other in wizarding clothes. They’d both retreated to Muggle ones. In the hot summer night under the light of the waning gibbous moon, she walked over the cobbles and stopped by the door. He glanced at the bundle of clothes she held in one arm.

“Can I come in?”

With a flick of his wand, the air shimmered, and Tonks hopped over the threshold and into the house. She ducked her head as she went past him and down the hall. 

“Are you planning to tell me what you’re doing?” he asked, as she ran up the stairs. He closed the door and followed her.

“Being polite and putting your clothes back,” she said, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing. Trying not to think about where her thoughts had been straying over the past few days. 

He didn’t run after her but walked to the bedroom where he could hear the chest of drawers being opened and closed. She was standing by the end of the bed, her wand in her pocket, and her thumbs hooked through the belt loops of her jeans.

“I washed them,” she said. “All clean. No bloodstains, which isn’t something Aurors usually bother about, to be honest.”

He pushed the door to. With the curtains open and the window flung wide, a little moonlight made it into the room along with the breeze. There was no Volto to make her look like a ghost. No bloodstains or swathes of gold. And still there was a glow. 

She watched the spy, in his Muggle clothes, and a smile playing on his lips. No Colombina to distract her from his dark eyes. She knew his Dark Mark was beneath a layer of cotton, and she knew now it would burn again and that he would answer it for the sake of the Light. There was a glint in his eyes, and she wanted to blame her feelings on the woods with its magic thick in the air, but they were in Spinner’s End with old brick and cobblestones.

“Isn’t this where you’re meant to see if the glass slipper fits me?”

“I destroyed them,” he said. “Along with everything else.”

“Oh.” She stepped closer. “Maybe it’s for the best, the whole glass slipper thing was meant to be a marriage proposal, wasn’t it?”

“Depends on the story.”

“How’s the wound?”

“Healed.”

“Aurors don’t leave anyone behind,” she said, as she pushed up his top. “We take care of each other.” She looked down, her fingertips tracing over the wound which was only just healed and the bruising which had still to fade completely. “Lots of dangers out there.”

“Yet you don’t appear scared of the Big Bad Wolf.”

A shiver ran down her spine. “Wrong story.” She raised her head to meet his gaze. His hands went to her waist as she pulled his top back down. “But a prince?” He made to speak and she cut him off. “Fine then, almost a prince.” She searched his dark eyes. “You can waltz.”

“And?”

“You can waltz really well.”

He laughed and leaned closer.

“I think we could both do with some good waltzing after everything that’s happened, don’t you?”

“It’s already after midnight,” he murmured.

“And I haven’t run away.” 

“No, you haven’t.” His hands drifted under her t-shirt and she put her arms around his neck. 

She knew he was a Death Eater and she didn’t expect a Prince Charming. But she was discovering there was someone else. Someone who would risk his life to keep a secret. Whose life was a constant masquerade, whether a Colombina or a Death Eater’s mask. She knew better than to make wishes. No one knew what spells would be cast in the coming years. But in the moonlight, there was just them. She thought of what the woods had protected them from for one night, and it looked almost like a wish as she wondered what more nights might end up costing them. Her soft lips found his and he deepened the kiss. Wishes could wait, waltzing couldn’t.


End file.
